n he could administer the poison
with effect. His hatred of Orange was intense and of ancient date. He was
of opinion, too, that the Prince might be scared from the post of duty,
even if the assassin's hand were not able to reach his heart. He was in
favor of publicly setting a price upon his head-thinking that if the
attention of all the murderers in the world were thus directed towards
the illustrious victim, the Prince would tremble at the dangers which
surrounded him. "A sum of money would be well employed in this way," said
the Cardinal, "and, as the Prince of Orange is a vile coward, fear alone
will throw him into confusion." Again, a few months later, renewing the
subject, he observed, "'twould be well to offer a reward of thirty or
forty thousand crowns to any one who will deliver the Prince, dead or
alive; since from very fear of it--as he is pusillanimous--it would not
be unlikely that he should die of his own accord."

It was insulting even to Philip's intelligence to insinuate that the
Prince would shrink before danger, or die of fear. Had Orange ever been
inclined to bombast, he might have answered the churchman's calumny, as
Caesar the soothsayer's warning:--

"-----------------Danger knows full well
That Caesar is more dangerous than he--"

and in truth, Philip had long trembled on his throne before the genius of
the man who had foiled Spain's boldest generals and wiliest statesmen.
The King, accepting the priest's advice, resolved to fulminate a ban
against the Prince, and to set a price upon his head. "It will be well,"
wrote Philip to Parma, "to offer thirty thousand crowns or so to any one
who will deliver him dead or alive. Thus the country may be rid of a man
so pernicious; or at any rate he will be held in perpetual fear, and
therefore prevented from executing leisurely his designs."

In accordance with these suggestions and these hopes, the famous ban was
accordingly drawn up, and dated on the 15th of March, 1580. It was,
however, not formally published in the Netherlands until the month of
June of the same year.

This edict will remain the most lasting monument to the memory of
Cardinal Granvelle. It will be read when all his other state-papers and
epistles--able as they incontestably are--shall have passed into
oblivion. No panegyric of friend, no palliating magnanimity of foe, can
roll away this rock of infamy from his tomb. It was by Cardinal Granvelle
and by Philip that a